Weakness
by Eurothrashed
Summary: She's always been the strong one. COMPLETE


Title: Weakness

Author: MAC/Undead Euro-Trash

Feedback: W_U_L_L_F@yahoo.com

Disclaimer: so not mine

Rating: very _*R*_

Summary: She's always been the strong one...

Spoilers: Buffyverse, up to _'The Gift'_

A/N This one's for Diva Stardust, she writes this type of thing much better than I do. Also, Screwed-Spike is one of my favorite facets, right up there with Crazy-Spike, William, and Evil-Slayer-of-Slayers-Spike.

WARNINGS: Underage hanky panky, darkness and sexual situations. I don't really know how the ratings thing works, so, this's just really_*R*_. You're warned...

Her room's dark, it's always dark anymore. Her stuffed toys are tossed all over the floor; and books, once safely set on shelves, have pages torn out from small tremblin' fingers. I walk in, my boots crunching bits of plastic and glass as I do. Small trinkets are lying in shattered fragments, all that's left from being hurled against the wall. She's sittin' on the edge of her bed, head dipped, her hair covering her features like some kind of curtain. I smell blood, and I have to bite my tongue. Instead of demanding answers and yellin' like I usually do, I just stand there. I stand there, and I wait. 'Cause if there's blood, then this isn't her normal bout of depression.

"It didn't work," she finally says. Her voice is low, haunting, barley there; and it makes me shiver. "I tried to fix it, but I didn't work." She slowly brings her gaze up to meet mine, "Why didn't it work, Spike?"

I move now, steppin' over toys and I hear CD cases break under my weight. How the hell could she make such a mess in the short time I left her alone? Can't bloody figure it. M'not sure what she's goin' on about. Sometimes it's like she's in her own little world, had enough time with Dru to understand that one. "What didn't work, Nibblet?" I ask, keeping my voice easy and soft. She brings her hands up, and fuck... know why I smell blood now. Deep cuts riddle her palms, just dripping and staining her skin.

"I wanted to fix it," she sniffles.

"Didn't fix a fucking thing, did it?" it came out harsher than I intended, but I'm fed up with this sod all depression of hers. She can cry and break things to her bitty heart's content, but I draw the line at lettin' her cut herself. I take her hands in mine, inspecting the damage. She might not open portals anymore, but, bugger it, there's something still in her blood. Something old and powerful, even a fledge could sense it. Glad m'not a fledge, baby girl wouldn't be sitting here, she wouldn't even be here.

"It worked before," she tries to yank her hands out of mine, it doesn't work and her arms go slack. "Thought I could try it, y'know, maybe do something I didn't do." Bloody... fuck. Those damn eyes, should pluck them out for what they do to me. Just a glance and she has me tied in knots 'round her pretty fingers, and she works me like a sodding puppet. Too bad she doesn't understand the kind of power she has. If she knew, she might sever my strings; can't have that, girl might realize that she doesn't really need me. 

It might make be evil, but I don't give a fuck. I need her to be weak; I need her to cry and throw fits and cut herself. Otherwise, I don't have a reason to be strong. I'm glad she doesn't know I need to take care of her more than she needs me to.

"Thought I could be faster, or braver," her tears start to fall, "But it didn't work." And I know exactly what she's talking about, wanting to fix it, make it so no one had to die, or just her. I understand, I do the same. I'm faster, I don't bother with the banter, I save her from being cut, I save Buffy from jumping; or I die trying. It's always the same, and I go out at night and kill things, picking fights with demons that I normally don't bother with. May not cut myself, but I let other the other nasties do it for me. My little bit's always been stronger than me. She might not know it, or think it, but she is.

"I'm bleeding," she says, as if she's just noticed it; and who knows, maybe she has. "Is it human?" her voice is so broken when she asks that. Then she sticks her hands in my face. It's all I can do not to lunge at her. What the fuck does she think she's doing? You don't offer me human blood from the tap, even unknowingly, it's like buying a starving man a buffet and saying he can't eat it. It's... well, rude for one. And two... there's this thing about my self control, there's a severe lack of it. Stupid girl. I stare at her outstretched hands for a moment, watching the red trickle from her cuts down her arms in tiny rivers.

Just an inch or two more, could drink from her like so much wine. Could run my tongue over her skin, just taking her into me. Feeling her tiny body tremble, my lips being painted by her. All I would have to do is lean, that's it. It's so easy. And that's what pisses me off. She's making it easy. She's so bleeding young, if not in body then in mind. She doesn't understand that she's offering me something that can't be given back- -unknowing or not. But the way she's looking at me, it only takes a second for me to understand what's goin' on. "Don't tempt me," I snarl, backing away from her. "Don't you _*fucking*_ tempt me." 

She sets her hands in her lap, "I want you to have it."

I'm growling now, don't care if I scare her, she needs to have her hide tanned. You don't do this; you just don't bloody do it. You don't offer a vampire something they want but can't have! "No, you crazy girl," I shake my head, if I'm convincing her or myself I don't know. "S'not gonna happen."

"Why not?" I hate her, she knows too well _'why not?'_, she's not stupid. Vampire. Bleeding girl. S'not rocket science after all. 

"You gotta death wish?" I hiss.

"You can't kill me," she says very reasonably. "And even if you could," she looks at me so trusting. "You wouldn't... not anymore."

And that's where I crumble. I want to kick and scream and beat her till she understands that she can do this sort of thing to a bloke. But I just hang my head, walking myself over to the chopping block. Wrapped and tied and shackled to her little finger, if she asked I'd Prob'ly walk into the morning's sunrise. My sweet, fucked up, little bit. "Not anymore," I agree, gonna burn in hell anyway for all the things I've done, what's one more broken trust?

After a second it blooms in her mind just what she's asked, and I see fear. "Does it hurt?" she asks, she scootches back, up against her headboard. I have an out, can tell her it does and stalk away, but I don't. Why not, is anybody's guess. Could be 'cause I'm evil, or just selfish. Maybe I need this as much as she does. Or maybe we're both already fucked.

"Already all opened up," I say, taking her hand in mine. "No work on my part, baby girl, you already did the painful bits." I watch the tension just flow out of her, and that hurts more than any stake to the heart I could get gifted with for what I'm fixin' to do. She trusts me, and she shouldn't. She has living, breathing friends who could prob'ly take care of her better than a heartbroken vampire with no morals could. 

They wouldn't be tempted by this, by her innocence; they'd clean her up and give her a nice talking to. They wouldn't do something that's the same as sex, only instead of my bein' inside her, she's gonna be inside me. And that's what snaps me out of my thoughts. I feel my face change, and my fangs prick my bottom lip. Snarling, I pull her off the bed, and I know I'm hurting her, but the chip isn't firing. It doesn't fire, 'cause she trusts me, she trusts me and she wants whatever contact I decide to give her. Know that now. And it just pisses me off more. What makes her think she has a right to want so much that it'll get her killed? 

We're in the bathroom before I realize that I've dragged her the entire short distance. The water in the sink is running, and I'm harshly cleaning her hands, not caring that she's crying now and not registering the lack of pain in my head. Little bitch needs to be punished, and that's why I let the soap linger in her cuts, that's why I'm using cold water instead of warm. She has no right to offer me things I have no fucking right wanting. She shouldn't want my touches even if they hurt, she shouldn't. But she does.

Suddenly, I let her go, coming out of my thoughts, not 'zactly sure when my thinking turned to actions. I look at her; she's crying and staring at me like she doesn't know me. Oh, fuck. What've I done? I reach towards her and she reels back, a whimper passing her lips. 

Slumping down on the edge of the tub, I put my vamp face away. Runnin' my fingers through my hair, I pull, letting the sharp pain bring everything back into focus. "You don't do that," I tell her, my voice is as empty as I feel. "You don't offer me something I want."

"Why?" she asks, it's timid, but no one on Earth could stop this girl from asking her questions. That's one of the things I like about her. "If... if you want it..." She looks toward the sink, where blood tinged suds still cling, slowly going down that drain. Our friendship is like that soap, disappearing down the drain, all 'cause I lost it. She's lookin' at her hands, and then me, "Bye Spike."

That's when I stand. This bathroom seems so small, and I have the urge to trash it, to break and tear, just like Nibblet did with her room. Maybe that's why she did it, 'cause she had to. I know that this's wrong, and I'm a bastard, but whatever she wants, as long as she quits flinching when I move, I'll do it. She wants me to feed from her, I do it. Shag her silly, I'll do it. Even if she wants me to sit and apologize till I'm blue in the face, I'll bloody do it. And that just shows that's she's stronger than me. I need her, and I'll go anything as long as she lets me need her.

"Bit," I'm pleading, don't care. She can't reject me, she just can't, there's nothing left that I have to go on for. With Buffy gone I have nothing but her, she can't reject me. "Stay put," I sigh, my shoulders sagging. "How can I fix this?"

And I panic when she just turns away Leaving the bathroom, not bothering to look at me. No. No! She can't just walk away! She can't just leave me standing here. She just fucking can't! S'not supposed to work this way God damn it! She's supposed to tell me what to do and I'm supposed to do it... but she's just walking away...

I run after her, grabbing her shoulders and spinning her around, pushing her against the wall. My lips crash down on hers, my hands holding the back of her head. And the kiss is bittersweet, it's desperate and rushed and panicked and everything that I'm feeling; but then it's tender. Is this what she wants? Or am I just fucking it up more? I can give her things, show her things. Can please her in ways she can't even understand yet. Just need to stay. Need her to want me, to invite me back in. She can't leave me out in the cold. I'll do anything she wants. I'll bleed for her if I have to. She just can't reject me.

I've no idea that I'm mumbling all this into her hair as I kiss along her throat and touch her in places that I have no business touching. I need her too much for her not to need me anymore. She wants a lover? I can do that. She wants someone to teach her all those naughty things that happen after the bedroom scene fades to black? Pleasing ladies who I need more than they need me is something I'm adept at. 

I drop to my knees, never should be in this position, m'not supposed to please her this way, but I always do the wrong things. Why should now be any different? I tug down her pajama bottoms and knickers. Flannel and cotton, dotted with flowers, should stop when I see that, but I don't. She's tense and I smell fear, but I push that away, all that matters is getting back into her good graces. Making her want me, even if it isn't how she's supposed to. She'll like this, they always like this. She'll never turn me away after this.

Dawn chokes in a breath when my lips touch her, her body tensing and becoming ridged. Tastes like sugar and honey and all those sweet things I'd steal from the kitchen when the cooks weren't looking. I'd hide them in my pockets, sometimes getting sidetracked and having them melt. She's melting, just like those sweets, like chocolate left out in the sun. Only there's no sun, there's never any in my world, and the only dawn I can see is her. 

I hate that I need her so much, that pleasing her is the only thing that matters anymore. I hate it. I hate that I have to give her all the wrong reasons to want me back. I hate that I buggered everything up so that I'm on my knees, worshiping her, like no demon should worship anything. She spins webs for me to get caught in, just like now. Her fingers are in my hair, holding on and pulling for all she's worth. Just like a spider, she wraps me up in her shudders and her soft sounds. The fear is gone, and I take relief in that. I don't care what it bloody takes; I don't want to smell fear on her ever again. Least not fear I've caused. 

I _*always*_ say the wrong things, or do the wrong things when it comes to this girl, now's not any different. 

I'm replacing the fear with arousal; I'm fixin' our situation by stealing her innocence. Could care less, I need her to be the weak one; I need her to think she needs me. Never been the big bad wolf, never really been much of a loner. In truth, I'm just a faithful dog. I need an owner. I need to be owned. I need to protect. I need to care for her. Only difference between me and the other mongrels, is that I refuse to be abandoned on the side of the bloody road. I'll show her that she needs me. I'll make her fucking see it.

Her breaths are ragged, and it feels like she's gonna rip my hair out by its roots. She tries to move her hips to grind against my mouth, but I just hold her still. Dragging everything out, making her sweat and sob my name like a prayer, driving my tongue inside her. 

Trailed after the Slayer like a pup I did. Pup's all grown up now, but m'still trailin' after a Summers' girl, the only Summers' girl. I'm her dog, and she fucking knows it. Can see it in my eyes as I watch her look down at me. 

Tastes like sugar and ocean breezes, like when me and my mum went on holiday. Like wine too sweet to be eaten with dinner. Everything's too sweet. And her soft sounds are like a beautiful piece of music. Too bad my tastes run along pounding drums, wailing guitar solos and harsh vibrations that make my teeth rattle. 

But that's fine... just need to find the volume...

She nearly screams and both her hands are in my hair as I focus on what I'm doing to her poor little body. I bite and lick and suck, just making her music grow, doing everything I can think of. I won't let her leave me. I won't not be needed. She isn't gonna walk away from me. I won't be abandoned again. She can beat me for this, I'll let her, but she's not gonna leave me all alone. I died that morning, and all that was left was something sad and broken. Taking care of my sweet bit slowly brought the pieces back together. Stitched me up right proper. I won't let her fucking rip the patch-job.

She's clawing and screaming, sobbing at the feelings I'm causin'. My name is never that far from her lips and if it wasn't for my holding her, she wouldn't be standing. She doesn't know what's happening, and her pleading goes from wanting' me to stop to begging that I don't. Should feel horrible 'bout this, I should, but I don't. The scent of her blood is everywhere, but I haven't hurt her. Been making sure that I don't. I feel it drip from my hair down my forehead, and I realize that I never did bandage her hands. Just another fuckup on my part. Seems like my life is just made up of mistakes. Like letting her get cut. Like letting Buffy jump. Like being so bloody weak that I have to sully a little girl just so that she doesn't leave me all alone. 

Too late to stop now, I look up at her. Her hair is damp and clinging to her face, her head's thrashing back and forth. I pull away and she nearly screeches at me. Know what she wants, and I'm an evil fucker for doing this, but it's just somethin' I have to do. I stand, still holding her up, she's begging and pleading and even cursing at me. I look her square in the eyes; all I see is frustration and want. "Promise me something," I whisper to her, she forces herself to listen, to hear what I'm saying.

"Okay. What?" she manages, her voice sticky and thick. 

"That you'll never leave me," she'll promise me anything, I know it. She's too close to the edge and her being my Nibblet she'll wanna keep any promises she makes. I'm evil. I know it. I've dealt with it. "Promise me," I growl. She closes her eyes, swallowing, trying to articulate something that would resemble speech.

"I promise," she breathes, "Please... Spike, I... it hurts."

And that's when I start to feel shitty. The heel of my hand rubs against her as I thrust my fingers inside her slick heat. It doesn't take much now, she screams into my shoulder as she comes. Just noise, no words, she past stringing words together. Shattering and clenching, clinging to me, her head on my chest. I'm a fuckup; I break and taint everything I bloody touch. It's a fact. I died that morning; I'm slowly remembering how to live again. I try not to think about what I've just killed in this hallway, 'cause if I think about it I'll cry. And if I cry she'll know just how weak I really am. 

She's always been the strong one. I'm just lucky she doesn't know it. 'Cause I need her to be weak, if she's weak, I can play at being strong.

~END~


End file.
